¤Fate¤
by chubbs.the.firefly
Summary: Newly edited!In the labyrinth of the opera populaire, Erik is trying to rid himself of his memories of Christine while upstairs the managers of the opera populaire hire a hitman to rid themsleves of The Phantom of The Opera...ErikOW read and review please
1. moving on

A/n: Alrighty ! so before I move on with this story I've decided to edit it so that I can stick to the plot better.Those of you who are just reading this for the first time you're not missing much from the old storybut those who have read this before you might want to scan through again because stuff was mostly added! Also I appologize for not updating in like two months buti was busy withmy play which just finished!and the week after i had a cheerleading competition (we placed third ) SO APPOLOGIES FOR NOT UPDATING! so this is my very first story EVER. Don't be surprised if it's not that great.

Flamers are being disregarded because I don't feel like kicking some flaming a$$! just kidding but I don't look at flames although constructive criticism is always welcome!

Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux's and Andrew Lloyd Webber's characters are mine... haha not. Though I do own the characters that don't have anything to do with POTO.

Why was it that in all his years of existence, all the things he'd faced on his journey through life, that being denied the love of a young girl had devastated him more than he could have ever imagined?

Three years.He had been down there three whole years since she'd left him, every minute more agonizing than the last. Days seemed to drag on forever although he rarely ever glanced at his clock or pocket watch to see what time it was. Since the night he visited Nadir there hadn't been much reason for him to leave his opera house, he had nowhere else to go and nothing to do. Madame Giry ,the closest thing he ever had to a friend had been skeptical at the news of his death, but for her own safety she never ventured down to the lake to see if the rumours were true. He turned rumour into fact when he decided not to visit her again in hopes that she would forget all about the distorted figure living in the dank labyrinth below her. He felt it was for the best since he was dependant on the idea that death would soon claim him .

Everything was over for him the day he let Christine go . She and that fool Raoul had destroyed him. He was a broken man.

Man? How dare he even think to call himself a man. He was a monster, a hideous murderous fiend, he never deserved her love or anyone else's for that matter. She told him his true distortion was in his soul ,but she had taken that from him too the day she left. Now all he had was an empty void, he felt incapable of feeling anything other than pain anymore. But he found he was no longer angry or upset with her ,and he knew he still loved her and always would. He had lost his mind and drove her into the arms of the fop. He couldn't stop thinking about her though he knew she was gone.

So Erik had to try to preoccupy himself. He sealed off the passages that the mob had found some and built new ones. He left Christine's open of course just incase she ever needed to come back to him, though deep down he knew she never would. He began composing again to pass the time, dark ,agonizing melodies that reminded him of her and that brought him to tears. His music had slowly begun to consume him once again and his organ had been drowned in music sheets. He had always vented his feelings through music, creating melodies had been a passion since he was a young boy and one day while doing just that, he missed a very important conversation upstairs, one that would have concerned him a great deal...


	2. one in the same

A/N: okay I'm going to apologize in advance for the shortness of the beginning chapters and the fact that most of them will be cliffhangers and exposition. I'm just trying to get the ball rolling so please be patient with me! And a special thank you to Twinkle22, my first EVER reviewer, thanks for reviewing!

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of the characters in POTO or I wouldn't have kidnaped Erik and stuck him in my closet... did I say that out loud ?

Anne D' Aubigne had been sitting at a bureau in the managers' office of the Opéra Populaire for nearly two hours, listening to two old men prattling on about some phantom who had been living in the basement since before they had come to the opera house. Supposedly he had been nothing but trouble since the day the managers had arrived, and now the wanted to make sure he'd never bother them again. It sounded absolutely ridiculous to her, but she wasn't about to turn down a job or disgrace her uncle, and listened in anyway.

They called him the Opera Ghost. He apparently considered the opera house as his own and demanded a salary from the managers of twenty thousand francs a month to ensure that no "accidents" would occur in the Opéra Populaire.

_Some ghost_, she thought. In Anne's opinion it sounded like this "Opera Ghost" was shaping up to be nothing more than a greedy stage hand who had infinite knowledge of the trap-doors and passage ways of the opera, which covered an entire block of Paris in size. She had a feeling this was an insiders' job, that possibly more than one person was involved in these pranks and crimes.

They had called her in to investigate and assassinate this "ghost" because, as they explained, a priest who was convinced the devil himself lived in the opera house, a rabbi whose yarmelke was stuffed down his throat, a witch doctor which apparently was beaten with his own cane and an entire Parisian police squadron were incapable of doing what they were asking her to do. She didn't know whether to be flattered that they'd considered her or insulted that they wanted to send her after someone she had no way of identifying .She chose the latter.

" You do realize that you both sound like you've lost your minds with all this talk of phantoms and monsters, don't you?"

M. Firmin was the first to respond." We know it sounds far-fetched ,Mademoiselle, but we have no other choice. This man, it has become apparent to us already that he is in fact of flesh and blood is no amateur murderer and our last defense is to fight fire with fire. Only, we hadn't expected to be sent... " he trailed off.

Anne sighed ," A woman?"

Firmin cleared his throat, " Well, yes..."

Well obviously she was a woman, and he was absolutely correct, no one would suspect a woman in these times to carry a pistol, let along know how to use one . With society the way it was, it was easy for her to get rid of most targets without raising an eyebrow. She had spent the last few years of her life studying swordplay, though the weapon was becoming less and less popular among fighters and ne'er do wells, and the finer points of firearms were etched into the back of her head .She could hit the apple off a man's head from opposite sides of a city street after a few months practice .But right now , all she was ,was insulted.

"Gentlemen," she began,"I understand your position of desperation , but given the circumstances and your obvious lack of evidence, I must decline from your offer. I am an assassin, not a murderer." she stated as she got up to leave.

"Is there really any difference?" André muttered to Firmin. Realizing their last chance to be rid of The Phantom was walking out the door Firmin called out ," Perhaps , Mademoiselle, you've heard about the unfortunate fire that happened her three years ago?"

Anne froze. A shadow seemed to fall over her ."Who could forget it ?" she said in a dark tone, still facing the doorway. The managers could see they had plucked a chord in the young woman who had an obvious connection to the unfortunate night. One they knew would be the fuel to their flame.

"As for the matter of proof, we do in fact have evidence which proves this man is at fault for the whole incident," André said as he reached into his desk and pulled out a box. Anne turned slowly and made her way over to the desk, not wanting to seem eager to see. She leaned forward and peered inside the open box. Whatever it used to be it was white and shattered into pieces. André then reached into the box and began to rearrange the porcelain pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. When Anne peered inside again , the pieces had been arranged to make a mask. She furrowed her brow and looked up at he managers.

" It was his. He had been wearing it the night of the fire. Our leading soprano pulled it from his face moments before he sent the chandelier crashing down onto the audience, nearly killing everyone underneath it instantly the moment it-"

"I know what happened," Anne snapped at Firmin, cutting him off from his graphic recollection of the brutal incident. Oh yes , she knew what happened. That night started a series of events which lead her full circle to the very place where it all began, and now she new the same man she had a personal score to settle with was one and the same with The Phantom of The Opera...


	3. reliving the past part 1

Chapter 3!!!

DISCLAIMER: not mine

It was her sixteenth birthday and all day long she'd been visited by relatives who'd stopped by to wish her happy birthday and give her birthday gifts. She thanked them, offered them tea and then wished them farewell. It became a sort of routine to her.

Such wonderful gifts she'd been given and more than she was able to count on her fingers for that matter, but secretly the only gift she hoped for that day was to have her father come home to her.

Her father, Pierre D'aubigne was an architect by trade, and therefore traveled far and wide, designing and building homes for rich noblemen, politicians and the like. She loved her father and he loved her very much in return but his busy schedule never permitted them much time to be together, and she hoped against hope that today would be an exception.

The visiting relatives and neighbours had long since left when Anne found herself in the large sitting room working on a piece of embroidery when there was a knock at the door. 'That's odd', she thought as she looked at the clock, 'It's nearly dark. Who would come to call at this hour? '. She got up and went to the bay window to see who was there. In the dimming light she could see a carriage in the lane way that looked remarkably like ... no it couldn't be her father's, the fading light must be playing tricks on her eyes. He was supposed to be in England on business.

Still looking out the window she heard a servant open the door, a faint"Bienvenue M. D'aubigne," and a warm "Henri so good to see you again."

It was then that she knew she wasn't dreaming. She picked up her skirts and ran rather ungracefully into the foyer and into the arms of the man at the door.

"Father you've come back!" A bit winded by the young girl's sudden embrace, Pierre D'aubigne said," Happy birthday sweetheart, how I've missed you so! My how you've grown, and more beautiful every time I see you." He smiled when he heard his daughter giggle.

" Welcome back father, I trust your clients in England were pleased with your work."

For a fleeting moment her father stared at her and seemed unable to comprehend what she had said, though the memory returned promptly.

"Oh, England, yes, I almost forgot, I'm getting old these days, my memory often seems to leave me " and he laughed. Not his usual warm chuckle, but the kind of laugh one uses when they're laughing politely at a joke that really wasn't very funny. Anne thought this odd, it was true her father was aging but he had to be no older than forty-seven.

Trying to change the subject he added, "Might we go and rest in the sitting room, it's been a long journey and I do so want to catch up life around here since I left, won't you tell me?"

" Of course father," Anne replied. She grabbed her father's hand and led him into the sitting room.

"So how have you been Annie dear, are you pleased with your gifts?" he inquired as he looked about the room, where her gifts were piled on a nearby divan, "They've spoiled you terribly haven't they?" he teased.

"Yes they have, " Anne laughed,"but I'm afraid that until now I haven't gotten all that I've wanted."

"Oh?"

"I'm grateful for all of them, I truly am,but all I really wanted was for you to come home to see me." Her father smiled and pulled her into another hug. He then reached into his waist coat pocket and pulled out a rectangular box.

" Then I guess I won't have to give you this?" he chuckled when her green eyes lit up and handed her the box which she opened excitedly. Inside were a pair of gold binoculars, the kind her mother took with her when she and her father went to the opera. Anne had always been told that she was too young to attend the opera so naturally the gift had confused her.

"Father,"she said,"I think these might be for Mother, you've always said-"

"I know darling, but for your sixteenth birthday I've decided to finally take you to see a show. I quite think you are old enough now to go. The tickets are inside the box as well."

She picked up the box once more and held up the tickets,"Don Juan Triumphant? I've never heard of this one,"

"Neither have I, but the Opéra Populaire always has spectacular shows so we needn't worry."

"Oh father, thank you so much! Shall I go get ready now?"

" You might as well, my dear" He laughed again.

And with that she was off to find her mother to help her change. Pierre could hear her flitting about the house yelling, "Mother, Mother! Father is taking me to the opera! Can you believe it? Me-at the opera!" Yes, Pierre could tell his daughter would enjoy this night.

xxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile, in the bowels of the opera house, Erik was preparing for his first and last performance in the Opera Populaire..

After tonight ,Christine would be his whether she went willingly or not. If it weren't for that fop, she would have been his so long ago anyway. All she needed was a little _persuading_. He adjusted his mask and wig one last time and headed upstairs to await his cue. This would be a night all of Paris would remember.

xxxxxxxxx

Anne was trembling with excitement by the time she had taken her seat in the front row of Box Five .She was dressed beautifully in a white gown, the custom for young girls, with pastel green waistband that was placed just under her bust .Her red hair was pulled back un a loose bun and small white beads decorated her hair. She felt like a princess.

Her father had it on good authority that box five had the best seats in the entire opera house and insisted against a hesitant box office clerk that he have these seats for his daughter's first night at the opera. He ignored the clerk's almost utter refusal and warning and told him to stop his superstitious nonsense.

" Theatre people," he scoffed as he walked away.

Anne leaned forward and looked at the gigantic chandelier above her. It was magnificent. There had to be at least a thousand candles lighting it. If that chandelier were ever to fall... she shuddered to think of it and scolded herself for such morbid thoughts.

"Annie darling," her father's voice came from behind her,"If you keep leaning over the balcony like that you may fall over, then you won't ever be able to see an opera now will you? Besides, the show is just about to start."

Anne gasped at the thought and sat back down. Growing impatient, she wrung her hands together, when suddenly the curtains began to rise...

"Mademoiselle, have you decided whether to take our offer?"M. André's voice had brought her back from her reverie and she found that she was still staring at that strange mask. Fortunately though ,André brought her back before her memory took a turn for the worse, for there was far worse to come.

"I'm sorry , what ?" She asked, blinking.

"Have you decided whether you are going to accept our offer?"Firmin echoed André's question,"I daresay that one hundred thousand francs is much worth the effort."

Anne blinked again. They hadn't mentioned one hundred thousand francs before! She had to admit that was a very generous offer. She'd take this job, but not for the money, oh no, this was for the misery this man had put her through for the past three years of her life. She would find him and get her revenge.

"I'll take this job,"she said,"But we've got to find a way for me to blend in with the crowd. This 'Phantom' could be any one of the employees here. I want to be the predator, not the prey."

"We're actually quite sure you'd know him if you saw him. The right side of his face is terribly deformed." Said André

"Quite disgusting really, we've seen him for ourselves." Firmin added.

"Just the same, It may take a while to find a passageway that leads to where he lives. I would like to be in a position where I could ask questions without looking suspicious. Where is most of the gossip is spread?"

"Mademoiselle, the best place for gossip is among the ballet rats and chorus girls. They'll tell you anything at any time ,they can't seem to keep their mouths shut."André said.

"That's perfect then. Chorus girl it is Messieurs , I'll be ready to start this afternoon. But first, do you mind if I take a tour of the house? It really has been a while since I've been here, and then only once before."

"Not at all Mademoiselle D'aubigne, go ahead. Would you mind meeting us back here around two? We will be speaking with the ballet mistress Madame Giry about private lessons for you." asked Firmin.

"Yes of course .And I am to assume I get half of the payment before and half once the job is done correct?"

"Clever girl."

"Pleasure doing business with you Messieurs." Anne then got up and shook hands with the managers before heading out the door. In the back of her mind she knew that the part of the job that would be the hardest, was reliving her past.


	4. reliving the past part 2

A/N: chapter four holy crap!well i've edited this story a couple of times now because I wanted to make sure the direction i'm heading with this story works with the new chapter, chapter 5!( Which is three quarters written) Hooray!( two months later...) I think if I try REALLY REALLY hard it will be up by sunday... and so far this will be the closest Erik and Anne get so get ready. I also want you to keep the minor characters in this chapter in mind, one of them might not be so minor...

Disclaimer... I own the DVD, that's gotta count for something... no? Read and review!

Her father had been acting so strangely that night. He kept looking over his shoulder, fidgeting with his program and he had stared into space as they awaited the ushers who were to get them to their seats. Anne kept quiet about this even as he asked for her binoculars, saying that he needed to scan the audience for some of his "friends".He gave them back to her just as the red curtain

was rising. The magnificent set came into view and Anne gasped. The chorus and La Carlotta began to sing their song which ,Anne guessed, would have been beautiful had it not been for Carlotta's wailing. Anne compared her voice to the time when one of her father's horses had fallen ill. The poor creature wailed for nearly two hours before one of the servants took a shotgun to it. However morbid the thought of doing such a thing to a shrieking Carlotta should have been, Anne found it quite funny and had to put a gloved hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Then Piangi, a little man dressed like him and another man stepped onstage and began singing of deceiving a young girl, how they would trade places and confuse her while one of the men seduced her. Piangi exited through a curtain as a young girl stepped onstage and began singing. _She_ _has the most beautiful voice,_ Annethought ,as the girl looked hopelessly in the opposite direction of the stage. Suddenly a man, definitely not Piangi, as this man was stick thin, stepped out from behind the curtain. His voice was light but masculine at the same time, it was entrancing. The man stalked up to the girl, embracing her from behind and stepping away from her while trailing his fingers seductively down her arm. They soon both began to sing.

"How do you like the opera so far?" inquired her father, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

"It's wonderful father, she is amazing and he, he is absolutely entrancing."

"The girl is Mademoiselle Christine Daaé that I know but, that man, I've never seen him before...whoever he is, he's brilliant."

By this time both of the singers had climbed a staircase from different sides and embraced each other at the bridge on top. Then the man, in a desperate voice sang to the girl asking her to be with him for their whole lives, and how he wanted her to be the one to save him from his life of solitude. Anne's vision suddenly grew blurry as tears filled her eyes. She put her binoculars down and asked her father for his handkerchief when suddenly everyone in the audience gasped. Anne turned her head to see what happened, realizing she had dropped her binoculars, but she didn't dare take her eyes off the scene to pick them up. All she could see through her blurred vision though was the two figures. The taller of the two, the man she had guessed, grabbed the girl tightly to his body and Anne quickly wiped her eyes to see what was going on. He then pulled out a knife, sliced a rope, and yanked a chain. As he and Christine fell through a trap-door the chandelier came crashing down on stunned audience members. Some had tried to run, but most, including some orchestra members were too slow to react.

Upon making contact with the gas lamps of the stage the chandelier burst into flames, which quickly spread throughout the theatre. It was complete chaos.

"Anne, we must leave, the fire will spread quickly and we don't want to be trapped inside."her fathered said to her in a poorly feigned panic. He then grabbed her hand and led her out through the crowd. It was then she remembered.

"Father I have to go back!"

"For what? We haven't the time!"

" I must go back for my binoculars!"

Her father looked around for a moment before his eyes widened,"Alright, I'll go back for them. You wait right here. If I'm not back in two minutes go outside and wait for me there!"

"But father-"

"Promise me, Annie!"

She stared at him for a few seconds, puzzled, "I promise father..."

"Good," he gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, looked around once more and disappeared into the scrambling crowd. Anne waited, counting the seconds. From behind her someone had pushed passed her, knocking her to the ground. She looked up to see the end of a black cape turn the same corner her father had. It was then all her father's strange behaviour began to make sense; someone was after her father. What _a silly thought_, she told herself, and began to count again. When her father didn't come back after only a minute, Anne became worried and rushed to Box Five. When she arrived, the door was closed. She tried to open it ,but it was locked.

"Father!"she screamed,"Open the door! I think someone's following you!"

From inside the room she could hear another voice ,it didn't belong to her father, and she couldn't hear what it was saying. Then her father quickly called out,"Annie! There's no one here but me. You must leave, this whole place will catch fire in no time. I..err... can't move, my leg is caught!"

"That's a lie Father! There's someone in there with you!"

Her father's desperate, muffled voice came through the door,"Anne you must listen to me! Get out of here now! Do not disobey me!"

By this time Anne was bawling. From behind her she could hear audience members mumbling about the Phantom of the Opera and the man on stage but it didn't concern her at hat moment. Somehow she knew that whoever was in there with her father wasn't there to help him find her binoculars. She was so frightened, she didn't know what to do.

"Father please come on!"Anne begged.

"Annie, Go now!" , her father bellowed. She tried the door again but it wouldn't budge.

She began pounding on the door when suddenly someone's arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her onto the person's shoulder .She squirmed and protested ,screaming, "Let go of me! My father, wait, we must help him. Put me down!"

She thrashed about to make whoever it was let go of her.

"Miss it's my job to get everyone out safely so please ,I beg you, calm down." The voice belonged to a boy, one not much older then Anne ,for she noticed that it cracked once or twice during his plea. She continued to thrash and squirm and protest nearly causing the boy to fall over. He'd soon had enough of her behaviour and stopped in his tracks.

"If you want me to put you down you must calm down and follow me, understood?"

Anne kept sobbing, and whimpered out a soft "Yes".The boy sighed with relief and put her down. When she looked up at him she saw that he was wearing an usher's coat. He handed her his handkerchief and grabbed her other hand, leading her down the hallways and through the crowds. She could see nothing but the back of his sandy bond head as tears once again flooded her vision, she felt numb, but in her mind she was coming up with numerous ways to save her father.Why wouldn't he listen to her?He said it was his job to get everyone out safely yet he left her father trapped in that room. She felt awful that she couldn't go to him, but this usher made her follow him. She knew in her heart that he'd never make it out of there,that if the fire did kill him, the man in the box would.

As they reached the doors and made their way outside they were hit with a blast of cold air. The usher continued to pull her along until she yanked her hand away. She began to shiver.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What's wrong!You're asking me 'What's Wrong'! My father is trapped in there you fool, whoever was in there locked the door !I was trying to get him out! My father will be dead if we don't do something!"she began sobbing again .

The usher boy tried his best to calm her down, though he was losing patience with her quickly .

"Look Mademoiselle, I was just doing my job, I'm sorry for your loss."

She scoffed at him,"You're sorry? That's it? You're sorry? I'm going back for him! " she shook her head and turned to go back inside. The boy's temper got the best of him and he grabbed hold of her arm .

"You're mad! Incase you haven't noticed ,you stubborn girl; that building is in flames, you can't possibly be able to find your way out alive, and I'm not coming in after you! Don't be so ungrateful! You're not the only one who's lost someone tonight! My father was in the orchestra pit! I had to**_ watch_** him die! At least you won't see your father in pain!"

She froze, not knowing what to do after his outburst. She began trembling and her eyes were red and puffy from crying yet new tears managed to fall down her face. Meekly she said,"I could have helped mine." Her shivers turned to tremors and she fell to her knees. The boy got down on his knees too, took off his coat and put it over her.

"Th-thank you," she whispered, and fainted as he caught her and cradled her in his arms, where he waited until someone came for her.

Anne had tears in her eyes as she relived that night, walking down the same corridors she had fled with the boy .She never did see him again, and she realised then that he had saved her life. He had saved her and she had been completely ungrateful towards him. She would see if he still worked in the opera house, or at least find out what his name was so she could find him and thank him. Wiping away her tears, she put on a straight face again as she made her way towards that horrid box which had haunted her dreams for the past three years.

Erik sat at his organ, unable to come up with anything remotely decent to put down on paper. He had been spending so much time composing he felt as if he was running out of things to compose . Erik was growing restless.Why couldn't he come up with anything?He needed to get out,to find some sort of inspiration.Maybe a tour of his opera house would help.He hadn't been up there in so long that he was beginning to forget what it looked like. He thought it ironic that he could forget about the places that were right above him, but he couldn't forget about Christine, who was probably miles away.He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.Now was a good a time as any to inspect his opera house, though reliving his past in the process was not something he was looking forward to at all.

He reached for his mask which was sitting on the organ, he'd abandonned it long ago knowing he'd never had to worry about someone seeing his face down there.He reached for his cape and headed to his gondola. Thinking of places he was to inspect , he decided that he would start with his beloved Box Five.

A/n: Uh oh, here comes trouble! Hmm I wonder what Erik will do when he finds Anne in Box Five... oh wait i do know, but if no one reviews no one will!

Oh! And I'd like some feed back on how I'm doing portraying Erik. I understand he hasn't been in the story alot so far but I'm looking for opinions and maybe tips from Erik writing veterans, so if you'd like to help just put your tips in a review! Thanks!

Read and Review my punjabbing pretties! Whoa that was weird!


	5. picking locks and chandeliers

_A/N:I'm Back! Again, I'm really sorry for not updating ,I've been so busy lately.Also when IDID go to update document manager wouldn't let me!I flipped out!If i see a Request Timeout or Fanfiction Error one more time someone is getting punjabbed!ughh! So here it is , two months overdue, Chapter Five._

Disclaimer: Do I own? Don't I wish...

Anne found herself standing in front of Box Five, or should she say , the boards nailed to the door-frame blocking her entrance to Box Five."Perfect," she said aloud ,_Just incase this wasn't difficult enough_ ,and kicked one of the boards.Her hands had been trembling from dread all the way down the halls ,and now this.It was just her luck that _this_ particular door was sealed off and boarded up.She sighed andthought aboutwhat to do.Deciding to risk a few splinters she cracked her knuckles and began ripping off the boards one by one.After about five minutes of yanking boards loose she found her slightly bloody and splintered fingers holding onto the door handle for dear life.

Erik had gotten in to box five through one of his old passageways, one made in the columns of the box.He had gone around by the door but to his annoyance found it boarded up.So rather than making a fuss of pulling out the boards and possibly injuring his fingers he went back the way he came. He stalked up to a hanging portrait and pulled it aside.He tapped on the wall which opened up like a door.Just as he was putting the painting back into place he heard a faint voice mumur something . Was it just his imagination, or was someone there?

Anne hesitated."Do I really want to do this?"This room plagued her dreams for the past three years and here she was, right in front of it,about to enter.She took a shaky breath.It didn't matter if she wanted to do this, she needed to. She needed to be rid of these memories, of her nightmares and of her father's voice in her head.If she was ever going to get her revenge, she would first have to let go of her fears .There was no sense in attacking someone out of fear and anger,she had learned this a while ago.So closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she turned the handle slowly.

Erik had only just made it into the room when he heard the creaking and pounding from outside.Some one was trying to break in! Quickly he hid behind a curtain and awaited this intruder. He would give them a beating they would never forget! His mind was coming up with numerous forms of torture when suddenly the noise stopped.He heard nothing from outside the door.

"What!"cried Anne, "You've got to be joking! It's locked as well?" Well, she thought,of course it would be locked if they boarded it up.She shook her head. Then she heard something strange.Someone inside the box was laughing at her. Already frightened of entering that god forsaken box Anne was now terrified.She listened again but heard nothing. "I must be losing my mind,"she muttered. She ran her hand nervously through her hair but stopped mid-way. _That's it ! s_he thought and began feeling around her head for one of the pins that was keeping her hair up.She pulled one out and bent it back, sticking it into the key hole.Leaning her head into the door she listened for the tumblers .When they clicked she turned the handle and pushed the door open slowly.

_The fool must have given up, _he thought.He waited a few seconds more before cautiously moving to sit down in his favourite chair in box five. He remembered the days when he would just sit and listen to Christine sing. He imagined her standing on the now empty stage in her white dress from Hannibal.The thought made him want to weep for her, he felt his eyes begin to well with tears."No!" he scolded himself,"You will not shed one more tear over her, she's gone old fool!" He wiped his eyes and heard the door handle turning."Maudit! " he cried before darting back into the shadows just in time to see a young girl walk in.

Anne hesitanly stepped into the room.It was laden with dust and ash ,and one of the curtains was badly torn. It made the place seem eerie. She glanced around looking over her shoulder. It felt as though someone was watching her from the shadows, and she didn't like it . The thought made her hair stand on the back of her neck.She stepped further into the room.In her minds' eye she could see her father sitting in his chair and leaning in to ask her if she was having a good time.

"_How do you like the opera so far_?"

"_It's wonderful father..."_

Anne pushed back tears that were well ready to fall. Trembling ,she sat down in the very chair she had been sitting in that night.She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down.It was no use,but she still refused to cry.

The nerve of that little twit, just waltzing in and sitting down in one of his chairs.No, not just one of his chairs, he realized, but his _favourite_ chair! He watched every one of Christine's shows in that seat and this little brat just sits there like she did so everyday , just lounging and closing her eyes. He had half a mind to go out and strangle her and throw her over the balcony, but then he noticed her trembling. He could hear her breath hitching as she tried to hold back tears,just as he had been doing moments ago. He watched her get up and walk towards the balcony and lean over to look up at the chandelier.She stepped upto get a better look, her copper hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned forward.Erik had never seen such a colour before. _Yes, my dear, he thought,it is a new chandeir.The old one took an ... unfortunate spill.Which you might find yourself taking if you are not careful._ From behind him Erik could hear footseps approaching, their pace picking up as they got closer.What next? he sighed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in here!" a voice yelled.

Erik watched the girl jump and lose her balance , slipping on a curtain and tumbling over the side of the balcony.Should he help her? His question was answered in a matter of seconds.

Anne screamed. She had fallen over the balcony,and grabbed hold of the railing just in time._Just like father said I would,_ she thought.She held on as tightly as she could. "Help me!" she cried out and screamed again as two strong arms grabbed hold of her and pulled her up.

A/n:If only i had two strong arms to pull me up from over a balcony ... :( haha jk. but seriously someone find me a boyfriend!

Read and Review Please:)


	6. Not a Twit

A/n: sorry if it gets really choppy in the middle. My friend kept bugging me about a song he was going to sing and would not let me type.

Disclaimer: I don't own...

"Hold on I've got you!"

Anne felt herself being pulled up over the balcony.She couldn't see who her rescuer was for her eyes were shut tightly in her panic"Don't drop me!" she said shakily,holding on to her rescuer's arms so tightly she could feel her fingernails digging into his arms.He moved his grip from her forearms to under her shoulders as soon as she was close enough and hauled her over the side,falling over in the process.

Just like he predicted the silly twit fell over the balcony.She had been leaning over to look at the chandelier when they boy came in.He startled her and she fell over .Erik ,for a brief moment panicked and almost went to her aid ,when the boy beat him to it .He watched as the red-head was hoisted up over the balcony ,her eyes clamped shut and her body trembling from shock.The young man lost his footing thought and they toppled to the floor one on top of the other . _Graceful, _Erik thought, and took his leave.He'd come back later when the twit and the boy had left.

"Ouch, you have quite a grip!" the boy said rubbing his arms , which now had red crescent marks from her nails.Anne had yet to get a good look at him for her hair was in her face.

"Are you alright?You shouldn't be in here,What if no one was there to catch you?"

"Well Monsieur," Anne said matter-of-factly while brushing off her skirts and sitting up,"I wouldn't have fallen if you didn't run in here and startle me like that."

"I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't broken in here in the first place.Box Five is off-limits, you know.The boards nailed to the frame and the locked door should have been a warning signal to you."

"Well I..." she looked up at the young man and immediately recognized his blonde hair and hazel eyes.This was the second time he'd saved her life.Her jaw dropped.

"You!" she cried.

"Me?"

"You're that usher boy!The one who dragged me out of here the night of the fire!"His confused expression immediatly turned into one of recognition.

"I remember you! You're the ungrateful twit who wouldn't listen to me."

"Excuse me ?"

"What are you doing back here?"

"Well if you want to know, I'm looking for... I mean I work here as of today." _Well that was close_.

"Really, and all this time I thought you were a rich snob."

"Well, I wanted to sing so I joined the chorus.And no, I didn't pay my way in , I auditioned like everyone else." _That's a lie. Maybe I should tell him I got in because I'm going to kill someone for the managers._ "You're very rude, you know.Especially for someone with such a low paying job as you."

"Actually I make more money than you will.I'm a set designer now."he retorted.

"Well good for you,"she rolled her eyes.

"I only worked as an usher because I was too young to paint or design .And as for me being rude Mademoiselle, I believe the pot is calling the kettle black.You still owe me a 'Thank you',

two now I think."

"For what ?Pushing me over the balcony?"

"I never pushed you. You fell. You owe me a 'Thank you' for saving your life."He stood up and held his hand out to her.She stared at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it and was helped to her feet."Thank you," she said in a small voice, "For both times." He leaned in closer to her, still holding on to her hand.His lips parted slightly and she felt butterflies in her stomach she leaned in slightly to just in time to hear him say,"Sorry,didn't catch that, what did you say?" he then chuckled and a mischevious smile spread across his features... which for those brief seconds seemed rather handsome.Let's just say though that if looks could kill, he's be six feet under .She was fuming.She yanked her hand back.

"You...You..."

"Me... Me...what are you saying?" the grin was getting wider, he was teasing her now.

"I said thank you, you ingrate!"he only chuckled.

"My you've got a temper.Relax Mademoiselle I was only teasing.My name is Théodore Argile, but call me Théo." He took her hand once more and when to kiss it as if he were a gentleman but noticed something and quickly grabbed the other hand too. "Your hands, they're bleeding.Did you pry off the boards on your own?"

"I did," she said suddenly feeling sheepish, a blush crept up her cheeks.He seemed fixated on her hands though.

"That was was very foolish of you,you have beautiful hands-" he seemd to catch himself," I uh, that is to say from an artists' point of view.You're ruining them with this rough neglect. Caloused hands are very unbecoming of a woman."

She snorted,"Oh so now you're the expert on how a woman should be I suppose?" _so she had beautiful hands ,hmmm? She'd use this to her advantage._ "And I suppose the rest of me isn't so beautiful, if all I've got for assets are my hands."

He looked at her for a moment. "You're alright."

"Just alright! You M. Argo-"

"Argile."

"Who cares?You are an arrogant pig! You should never speak to a lady that way!"

"I don't see a lady present,I see a silly twit with foolish notions and caloused hands."

"How dare you!" she gathered her skirts and headed toward the door.He went overboard, and he knew it.

"Wait! Wait, I'm sorry.That was uncalled-for-"

"Indeed."she kept walking.

"You're more than alright, I... _damn" _she heard him curse under his breath but kept on walking. He caught up with her soon and cut her off.

"Look,please forgive me ,let me escort you to wherever you're headed.You're new here and it'd be a shame to lose you in this labyrinth of a place."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"No tricks?"

"No tricks, I promise."he held a hand over his heart.

"Alright,but one more rude comment and it'll be you over the side of a balcony."

He chuckled."I never did get your name."

"Anne ." she said

"Anne" he repeated, as if trying the name out on his tongue."I like it. It's simple lovely and easy to remember."


	7. Everywhere I Go

After arguing with Théo most of the trip their conversation became more civilized and Anne realised, with much thought, he wasn't such a bad person. He was ambitious, that was for sure. His dream was to be the set director of the opera populaire,so he could paint. He told her some of his ideas and she had to admit they were really very good. He said he liked to create a realistic feeling to his paintings while adding a sort of whimsical flare to them, to bring them to life. He told her of his thoughts on current set pieces and backgrounds, and the changes he'd make if he was in charge.

"It's a shame the old set director left after the fire, he was fantastic .The director we have know knows nothing of colours. For instance, his idea of a sunset is an orange washed canvas with sloppy grey clouds and a bright yellow sun." he began to imitate the set director "Ze sky she is more of an orange, you silly fool -what iz this? Violet undertones on ze clouds? Ridiculous! I 'ave never 'eard such nonsense."Even though Anne had never personally met the set director Théo's dynamic impersonation made her giggle.

"What are you saying Mr Argile?" she teased , "That _you_ know more about colours than him?"

"Personally, I think a blind person knows more about colours than him," he retorted.

"That's a little harsh Monsieur, don't you think?"

"Forgive me, I'm just passionate about my art."

"I can see that. If I can learn to stand in your presence for more than fifteen minutes without being offended by you I'd like to see your art one day."

He smiled. Oh that smile, Anne envied him for it. It was so carefree, as if everything was right in his world for a brief moment. He stopped walking and stood in front of her.

"Have you ever seen a sunset Mademoiselle?"he asked.

"Every night of my life Monsieur." she would compare the way she answered him to how she would answer if he asked her if the sky was blue, but obviously that wouldn't be appropriate for this situation.

"No but I mean _really_ seen one. Have you ever noticed the shifting, changing colours as the sun slips behind a hill? How one moment the sky seems completely made of yellows and golds, and then the clouds turn rose and violet near their edges, or how the darkness creeps up on the other side of the sky when you are distracted by the disappearing sun?"

A poet too? She was at a loss for words."No I have not ." she really never noticed that, especially not in the last three years.

"Mademoiselle, I would like to show you a Parisians sunset, the way it was meant to be seen," his voice shook a little,"Would you please join me ?"

She smiled,"Of course Monsieur, I'd love to."

He let out his breath. She hadn't noticed he'd been holding it until then.

"Good." he said quietly , and they continued on their way back to the managers' office. When they reached their destination she felt a pang in her stomach. She was having a good time talking to this boy, it was as if she'd known him all along. She found, despite their rough beginnings, that she actually enjoyed his company.

"So I guess I'll meet you..." she started.

"- On the stage, at five o'clock if that's alright."

"Five, but doesn't the sun go down at seven thirty at this time of the year?"

"It does, but from what I've seen of you lately you'll get lost or stumble somewhere you don't belong, either of which will make you late." A mischievous smile spread across his face and he chuckled as she slapped his arm.

"But more importantly I'd like you to compare the artwork,"he cringed,"If you can call it that , to a real sunset."

She laughed ,"Five, o'clock, I'll be there," He nodded and turned to leave when Anne called to him,

"Théo?"

He stopped and turned quickly,"Yes?"

She smiled shyly, "I... thank you- for saving my life, twice."

His wonderful smile lit up his freckled face again."Anytime, Anne D'Aubigne," he playfully gave a large bow and left her standing in front of the door to the managers' office.

She watched him walk out of sight when she heard raised voices coming from inside the room. She leaned into the door to hear better.

"And you just speak of this out in the open for anyone to hear? You fools, he's probably listening in, he's smarter than that you know," the voice belonged to a lady, she had the classic dialect of a Parisians woman and she sounded outraged by the managers.

"Mme will you please calm down, follow your own example, if he wasn't listening in before he certainly will be now."

"Well good, this is a terrible plan. What makes you think he won't get rid of this one just like the rest? I will have no part in this Monsieurs."

Anne rolled her eyes. She could only imagine what they were talking about...

"You will Mme Giry , or you will lose your job. We want to be rid of this phantom for good. We've lost some of our best investors and crew members because of this and we'll be damned if it happens again."

"How do you even know he is still alive? We haven't had a single accident in over a year."

"Who else would try to suffocate a Jewish priest with his own hat?"

The woman remained silent.

"We need you to teach the assassin ballet, and the choreography for the upcoming opera. In order to blend in they'll need to know how to dance."

"Impossible!" the woman cried,"How do you expect me to take an inexperienced man, turn him into a dancer and teach him the steps to an entire show in three weeks?"

"You are the best there is Madame, that's how." André offered.

"Your words of flattery will do you no good Monsieur."

"It is not a man you are teaching, but a woman. I daresay if she can handle a sword and pistol ,she can handle ballet." Firmin said.

Anne took this as her cue and knocked on the door. André opened it. "Ah Mademoiselle we were just talking about you,"

"We'd like you to meet Madame Giry, our ballet mistress, she is going to be giving you private lessons as well as teaching you the choreography for the upcoming opera."

"Pleasure to meet you ma'am," Anne said ,trying to be friendly. The woman just stared disapprovingly.

" Mme Giry this is Anne D'aubigne, she's the..." André looked up and around for someone as if they were hanging from the ceiling listening. Clearly he had taking the woman's advise ." You- Know-What we've hired." Both Anne and Madame Giry raised an eyebrow.

Firmin cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed, Anne was given the impression that Firmin was the thinker of the duo." The performance is three weeks from now, I assume you'll be ready to perform by then. Madame Giry is one of the best ballet mistresses in Paris and should have you in excellent if not top shape by opening night." Surely he didn't think she was performing, She'd ask the Giry woman later.

"If it is possible to teach her anything at all. She has the build of a dancer but does she have the grace and technique? The talent? There are so many things we consider when choosing a new chorus girl. The other girls will notice if her technique is off or if she can't keep time."

There were a rare few moments in Anne's life that she ever felt this scrutinized, and this was one of them. The Giry woman continued.

"I have been gracious and provided you with a pair of my own ballet slippers. The managers will give you a costume. I expect you to be properly clothed, stretched and on the stage by four thirty tomorrow morning-" Anne groaned,"And not a minute later. Good day ." It wasn't until she went to leave that Anne realised the woman was carrying a cane. Madame Giry used it to support herself as she walked. Her right knee seemed to pop as she walked. Anne almost felt sorry for the woman. Almost.

They had made a mess of his opera house. No, mess wasn't the word to describe it. By Erik's standards it was a catastrophe. His wonderful gold statues were tarnished and uncaredfor, the costumes; those beautiful costumes were moth-eaten and torn. And his sets, his wonderful background pieces looked as if a small child found paint and splattered it on a canvas. What fool would paint a sunset bright orange? Erik hadn't seen very many sunsets in his lifetime, he preferred to be out at night in the dark shadows ;but of the sunsets he had seen none of them looked like the catastrophe he was standing in front of. He'd be making a few '_suggestions'_ to the managers very shortly, the state of his opera house had diminished despite the renovations and he was not at all pleased. It was time he restored his opera house to its full glory.

He made his way towards the wings and up into the rafters so that he might take his short-cut towards the managers office. Erik had once installed a one way mirror above the managers' office where the desk used to be. He had been clever enough to paint the other side to look like the rest of the ceiling and no one ever suspected a thing. Erik liked to be able to hear _and_ see the negotiations and contracts made between the imbeciles and the new talent or crew. Only now all he could see through his one way mirror was thick copper curls. What was _she _doing there?


End file.
